


Wolf in the Moonlight

by Nehasy



Category: Tenkuu no Escaflowne | The Vision of Escaflowne
Genre: Child Soldiers, M/M, Pre-Series, Ryuugekitai, dragonslayers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-20
Updated: 2017-01-20
Packaged: 2018-09-18 16:38:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,750
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9393983
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nehasy/pseuds/Nehasy
Summary: It's freezing cold, there's a thousand foot drop, what better place to get to know your homicidal captain?





	

**Author's Note:**

> I don't own Vision of Escaflowne or any of the characters.  
> This is for Escaflowne Week 2017 day 3 with the prompt Two  
> This is pre series, the Dragonslayers have only been together for two colours so they don't really know each other their captain that well yet. This is from the Dragon in the Ashes universe.

                Moonlight bathed the Vione, rendering its normally cold and foreboding black surface in silver gilt as it soared silently over the midnight draped world below.  The wind was cold as ice, cutting through the thin leathers of his uniform like a knife and causing him to shiver slightly.  A sharply indrawn breath chilled his lungs, making them ache pleasantly.  It was invigorating, reminding him of home as it helped chase away the heavy weight of fatigue which had been pressing down on him for the past hour of his watch, rendering everything back into sharp focus.

It was far too cold to be outside on the flight deck or catwalks but the pale figure sitting on the far edge of the massive levistone didn’t seem to feel the chill any more than he noticed the yawning void beneath his feet. 

He was a creature sculpted of the softest moonlight, the shining silver of the stars captured in his hair.  Glowing in the darkness, he was so motionless that at first it didn’t even appear that he was alive.  It was far easier to believe that this beautiful shining figure was some fanciful alabaster gargoyle protecting their fortress, or perhaps a guardian spirit summoned up by the gods of frost and snow.  Only the soft puffs of air wafting up in small foggy clouds gave any evidence of life or warmth.

Miguel shivered and once again wished for another layer of clothing to drape over his uniform, wondering as always how his captain managed to look perfectly comfortable sitting there wearing little more than his leather pants and undershirt.  His uniform jacket rested on the black rocks beside him, visible only by the gold chasings which caught the light spilling from the doorway.

                “It’s after curfew sir.”  Miguel said softly, loathing having to break the tranquil tableaux before him.  Shifting slightly, he watched as his shadow stretched out across the rugged stone beyond the door, reaching out towards his captain as if drawn to him.  Framed in the cold blue glow of the interior lights, it seemed to almost be an affront to the monochromatic world beyond the leviship’s interior.   

“And this is out of bounds.”  He added in an even softer voice, sounding almost apologetic over his words.  There was no need to see his captain’s face to know that he was likely smirking at that statement, amused that anyone would dare to think the rules actually applied to the great Dilandau Albatou.  The Dragonslayer knew well enough that the only rules which applied to them were the ones their captain himself imposed.  Still, the idea of his beloved leader falling to his death on icy stone didn’t sit well with him and he desperately wished he knew of a way to convince the pale youth to come back inside.

If Dilandau actually heard him, he gave no sign.  Instead, the slender albino continued to stare out into the night sky, drinking in the starlight and the chill as if they were ambrosia.  It was clear that there was only one option left for Miguel and he grit his teeth silently, biting back a groan of displeasure.  Any sound of weakness would be quickly punished by his leader, and he’d rather dive off of the Vione than disappoint the pale youth.

Taking the silence as an invitation of sorts, Miguel forced himself to leave the dubious warmth of the doorway and edge out into the night.  One foot in front of the other, he carefully made his way towards that glowing figure like a moth to flame.  His hearth hammered in his chest as he did his best to pretend that a single misstep wouldn’t result in a rather spectacular and fatal dive. 

His breath fogged in the air, creating small clouds which caught in the wind and drifted away with spectral grace as he finally reached his goal and carefully sat down next to his captain.  No words were said and no acknowledgment given as to his intrusion though he knew damn well that Dilandau was aware of his presence.   The pale youths sword rested on his lap, one ghostly white hand lightly placed on the handle, ready to draw it in an instant should his Slayers intentions prove to be anything but honourable. 

Always wary, always expecting an attack, that was their captain and it tugged at something in Miguel’s heart to wonder what sort of life he’d lived to demand such constant vigilance even among allies.  For all that the captain appeared to be relaxed, the dragonslayer knew that violence still lurked just below the surface and it made him glad that he’d spoken before daring to approach.

“Sir?”  He asked tentatively, still unsure of what sort of reception his intrusion would bring. “Don’t you have an early meeting with Strategos Folken?”  It was far more evasive than simply demanding to know why he was hanging around dangerous areas of the ship rather than in his bed like everyone else.

“I’m aware of my schedule Lieutenant.”  The reply was cool and impersonal enough that lesser men would simply back away and leave the vicious youth to his own devices.  Miguel had seen enough soldiers violently reprimanded for bothering the captain to know a warning when he heard it.  Still, he found himself reluctant to leave despite the risk that a simple slap could very well send him to his death.

Instead of pursuing the issue, Miguel simply leaned back, bracing his arms behind him and took a moment to admire the view.  It really was spectacular from up here.  The moon was full and the Mystic Moon loomed behind it almost ominously, both celestial bodies glowing silver and blue respectively.  Their light bathed the land, creating patches of liquid light interspersed with black forests and silver mountains.  It was a glowing map of Gaea spread out beneath them, a beautiful tapestry which few living beings outside of the Zaibach Empire had ever witnessed.

“Do you think that we’ll ever see peace?”  He found himself asking, staring down at a scattering of dark grids too uniform in position to be anything other than villages.  Lights twinkled at regular intervals in the darkness, lighting the way for late night travellers and standing as defiance against the night, proving the might of Zaibach against even the darkness itself.  Rather than a reply, he heard a soft grunt from his companion and that shining silver head lowered slightly.  Crimson eyes quickly located the village which had caught Miguel’s attention and pondered it thoughtfully.

“No.”  He said after his silent deliberation, those strange eyes casually studying the locations of the villages, analyzing their tactical positions in regards to each other and their surrounding country sides.  Finding them to be adequate, he allowed his gaze to wander once again.

Miguel watched him for a long moment before realizing that there wasn’t going to be any follow up to that statement and for some reason that irked him.  There wasn’t the sense of annoyance from the captain, warning him that the pale youth was in no mood to talk.  Instead, it seemed that he felt that an appropriate answer had been given, leaving little need to elaborate.

As always, it was the little things like this that set their leader apart from them.  He was the most incredible warrior any of them had ever seen.  Fearless, brutal and cunning, he could disarm even the best of them with ease and even veteran soldiers hastened to get out of the pale teenagers way.  It was only when you tried to speak to him in a more social setting that you realized that there was something fundamentally wrong with the beautiful youth. 

There was something missing in his eyes, in his tone of voice and it kept the team on edge.  Miguel always recalled in those moments, the time he’d been walking across the frozen wastes of his home village one fall and come across a large wolf.  It had fed recently and had little interest in the scrawny boy, but it had stood there less than ten feet away, watching him with those predatory eyes, weighing his every movement, his every breath. 

Even though he’d been carrying a sword at the time, Miguel couldn’t ever remember feeling so helpless and yet utterly in awe of the savage power standing in front of him… at least until now. 

Lord Dilandau had those same eyes, that same aura about him of ferocity barely held in check.  It was almost inhuman and lent credence to the rumours aboard the ship that the albino captain was some sort of demon spirit.

“Why do you say that sir?”  He found himself asking, hoping to draw their strange captain out of his shell.  Just asking the question made Miguel feel reckless and daring, as if he’d extended his hand to that wolf all those years ago, risking its savage teeth for the slight chance to feel it’s beautiful fur.

Those strange eyes flicked towards him, their flat gaze suddenly piercing and suspicious, though beneath that, there was curiosity.  It made Miguel wonder if anyone had ever actually bothered to ask the other boy that simple question rather than just taking what he said at face value and retreating.

“Emperor Dornkirk believes that only Zaibach has the power to bring everlasting peace to Gaea and he’s never wrong.”  The brunette continued, keeping his tone of voice low and gentle, noting how his captain stiffened slightly at those words.  Something dangerous glittered in the ruby depths of those eyes and for a moment, Miguel worried that his words might have been construed as a challenge.

“It’s not in our nature to seek peace.”  Dilandau said softly, the bright pink tip of his tongue licking at his lips, making them shine silver for a moment in the moonlight.  “Everyone speaks of peace as if it was some great prize to be taken, but the taking is a violent act, negating the prize in its claiming.”

The eloquence was shocking to say the least and Miguel couldn’t help but look at the strange beautiful youth sitting next to him, drawn by the endless puzzle he seemed to represent.  Lord Dilandau seemed to be a living, breathing contradiction and it fascinated him to no end.

“So… you don’t believe that Emperor Dornkirk is right?”  It was a huge risk to ask this, he might as well have asked if his captain was carrying treason in his heart.  All it would take was one little push and Miguel would vanish from the world, forgotten before he’d even had a chance to add to the glorious destiny of the Empire.

Instead of attacking, Dilandau chuckled softly to himself.  The sound was rough and clearly not familiar to the captain’s throat.  Those strange eyes shifted to look back out at the land passing by beneath them, glittering with feral glee before returning his curious gaze once more.

“Zaibach will bring peace to Gaea.  Anyone who doubts that is a fool.”  He replied confidently.  “Emperor Dornkirk is never wrong.”  The familiar fanatical faith so common with his countrymen was soothing to Miguel’s ears and he found himself smiling slightly even as deep in his mind something warned him that the two of them might have vastly different concepts of “peace”. 

“We’ll be at the forefront of it all.”  Dilandau continued.  His tone soft but there was the knife edge feel of steel beneath his words.  “One can’t ignore the power of Destiny.  We are both its messengers and enforcers.”

Again, Miguel had that feeling of the wolf watching him, weighing him against the worth of his life, those cold hard eyes stripping his sense of self away layer by layer, searching for the core of his being.

It was in this moment that Miguel realized deep in his soul that this strange slender youth, this beautiful alien creature would be the one to bring about the change Gaea so desperately needed.  This captain wouldn’t ever surrender, wouldn’t ever compromise in the pursuit of his goals and that he’d tear down any opposition with single minded ruthlessness.  This soldier was the wolf made manifest and for some reason, he’d chosen Miguel to join his fate, to share in his glorious destiny.

Strangely, he found himself smiling as he stared into those ruby eyes, the only source of colour amidst the chill monochromatic night and he knew that he’d found his destiny.

“Thank you for choosing me sir.”  He murmured softly, stunned at the depth of emotion in the words.  They’d all thanked him profusely of course when they’d first been called to serve in the elite new unit, but Miguel was sure that none of them truly understood the enormity of what they were to do until now.  It was overwhelming, and he knew it would only become more so as they moved from team training to actual battle, but he knew deep in his heart that so long as they followed this fierce youth, nothing would stop them.

“I’ll die before I allow myself to disappoint you.”

“No, you won’t.”  The captain replied softly, rising to his feet with a casual ease which belied the deadly drop below them.  “I won’t let you die.”  Those eyes locked on his and Miguel felt his heart skip a beat as he became lost in their sudden depths, feeling the heat within them tear through his body, driving away the chill of the night, leaving only beautiful flames in its wake.

A pale hand extended towards him, the skin warm against his glove.  He imagined that he could actually feel the captain’s pulse beating strongly through the layer of leather separating them and it made something deep inside his soul shiver.

They were going to go inside, Miguel back to his rounds while Lord Dilandau returned to his quarters to sleep and prepare for his early meeting.  For a moment, the brunette hesitated, not willing to lose this strange surreal moment in time.  Once they were bathed in the artificial light of the Vione, he knew that the captain would once again become the cold and unreadable leader, bristling with ready violence and a quick temper. 

He wasn’t ready to lose the wolf yet.  On impulse, he quickly flashed the albino youth a discreet hand sign, blushing hotly as he did so.  It would be so easy for the other teenager to pretend not to see it, allowing them to return to the normalcy of their routine.  This was the first time he’d ever done something like this, and to attempt it with his superior officer was mindboggling.  What was he thinking?

Crimson eyes narrowed slightly as they saw the gesture, a silvery white brow rose up, turning the usually cool and aloof expression into one which radiated smug amusement.

“Bold of you.”  Lord Dilandau stated, releasing Miguel’s hand in order to pick up his discarded jacket.  He quickly slipped it on, fastened the clasps to close it and buckled on his sword, all with crisp economical movements, giving no hint as to his intentions towards his subordinate’s proposal.

Without a word, he then turned and began to walk back towards the impersonal blue light of the doorway, his shadow stretching out behind him, brushing across Miguel’s legs almost playfully.  Only when he reached the door did he turn around to look at the brunette. 

The wolf watched him, weighing him with the casual intensity of a confident predator, peeling away the layers which surrounded the core of his being.  Miguel met the gaze unflinchingly, drinking in the dread and elation at being so utterly overwhelmed.  He felt a connection with this beautiful yet deadly creature, something which couldn’t be denied even if he wanted to…and he most certainly didn’t.

Those crimson eyes seemed to peel away that last layer to his soul and found his core.  Ruthlessly, they studied the essence of Miguel, seeking to understand all that he was and ever would be. 

A smile tugged at those pale silken lips as the flames once again ignited in that uncompromising gaze.

“Coming?”  Lord Dilandau asked, his voice heavy with expectation.  Miguel felt his heart leap back into action as he practically leapt forward, barely managing to keep his feet beneath him on the slick stone.

“Yes sir!  At once sir!”

The wolf turned away, accepting the kindred spirit it had found even as its human counterpart welcomed their shared destiny.

**Author's Note:**

> I see the Zaibach military as having an assortment of little hand signs they use for various communications, ranging from insults to maneuvers and yes, propositioning someone. The idea being that if the other person isn't interested, they simply don't respond to the sign so both parties keep their dignity intact in the face of rejection. Each of the Four Demon Armies likely has their own versions of each sign since they don't often work together, so it lets them discreetly insult each other as well without the other knowing.


End file.
